


A Married Little Christmas

by the_painless_moustache



Series: The Most Wonderful Time [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, Frottage, Future Fic, Hospitalization, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Married Couple, Original Pack, Shower Sex, the others are just side characters, this is all about Sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' and Derek's second Christmas as a married couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Married Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Ho Ho Ho! I know I'm late, but here. There's feels and sex and it's all great.

 Stiles isn't a morning person, but Derek is even less so which means he's always the first one awake. Awake be a relative term, anyway. He spends the first ten minutes with his eyes open just staring into the middle distance before his brain clicks on. The next few are usually spent trying to untangle himself from Derek's grasp. Then it's the slow shuffle downstairs into the kitchen, shivering in his boxers because of course he forgot clothes.

 There's frost covering the kitchen window, cutting intricate designs into the glass. He jams a few buttons on the coffee pot until it hisses alive. He thinks, not for the first time, that they really need to replace it. Only his dad had alluded in September to that being their Christmas gift, so he's been waiting.

 Derek doesn't wake up until eleven, a slow two hours later, and even then he zombie walks to Stiles on the couch and just falls next to him. Stiles watches with a smile, sipping his coffee. "Morning."

 Derek grunts, turning to hide his face into Stiles' shoulder. He lifts his head and squints at his shirt with a frown. "S'mine?"

 "Yeah."

 Derek grunts in acknowledgement and falls back over.

 "Scott wants to go Christmas shopping today." Stiles tells him, scrolling through his twitter feed.

 "Mm."

 "You should come with. He's bringing Vivie and Wyatt."

 "When?"

 "I could push for one?"

 "Mmkay."

 Stiles turns and presses a kiss to Derek's hair. "You're so cute."

 Derek lifts his head and smirks. "You know, we've got two hours before one."

 "Nuh-uh, I am not letting you distract me." Stiles lies, leaning away. Derek just crawls back over him and kisses him, still soft and sleepy but with an underlying bite. Stiles snorts, trying to ease back but failing.

 "Let me distract you a little." Derek suggests, taking his coffee and setting it aside. "For a few minutes."

 "Like you could do anything in only a few minutes." Stiles teases, sliding down and stretching his arms up.

 "I only need a few minutes to convince you of longer." Derek purrs with a grin as he cages him in.

 Stiles probably would've let him if his phone hadn't started ringing. Derek whines, but rolls to allow him to reach. "Hey, Scotty."

 "Tell Derek to get off you and get dressed."

 "Tell Scott to shut his mouth." Derek grumbles into his neck, biting.

 "Do you two want to hash this out?" Stiles asks.

 "No." they both answer.

 "I'm just making sure we're on for shopping today." Scott continues. "Vivie and Wyatt want to see you."

 "Yeah, I invited Derek along, too."

 "As long as there's no groping."

 "Daddy, what's groping?" Stiles hears Vivie ask.

 "Something inappropriate."

 "I can't promise anything." Stiles says with a smirk. "Have you seen my husband?"

 "We would've been better."

 "Tell that to your wife and two children."

 Scott laughs. "So when do you want to meet up?"

 "One." Stiles says. Derek leans in and starts licking his neck. "Ish."

 "Yeah, fine. See you at the mall at one-ish."

 Stiles throws his phone over his head when Scott hangs up, dragging Derek's mouth up to his. "What did I say about distracting me?"

 "That I'm very good at it." Derek murmurs, pushing Stiles' shirt up over his ribs.

 Stiles spreads his legs, sighing when Derek slips firmly between them. Derek rumbles and takes Stiles' shirt completely off, bending down to pepper kisses over his shoulders and nipples. Stiles arches into him, looping one leg over his hip. "Der," he sighs, lazily grabbing at his hair.

 "I've got hours." Derek reminds him, pushing his other leg off the couch, leaving Stiles spread completely open.

 "You've got _an_ hour." Stiles corrects him, pulling him back into another kiss. "Maybe an hour and a half."

 "You want me to fuck you here?" Derek asks, starting to slowly grind against him. Stiles whines. "Or we could split it up. I could make you suck me off and then take my time with you in the shower.

 " _No_." Stiles groans, pulling on his hair. "No time-taking."

 "No? Not even to eat you out?"

 " _Derek._ "

 "You aren't being very clear with me." Derek reprimands with a sigh, sitting up to tug on Stiles' waistband. "I guess I'll just have to make the decision."

 "You're such a bastard." Stiles huffs, lifting his ass so his pants will come off.

 Derek doesn't seem too overly concerned as he eases his sweatpants off, getting them as far as Stiles' knees before Stiles has to kick them loose for him. Derek palms his erection through his underwear, and Stiles' eyes roll into the back of his head. " _Fuuucking Christ_ , Derek Hale you absolute _asshole_."

 "You're so gorgeous." Derek sighs happily, rolling his hand. Stiles keens in response, grinding his hips against his hand.

 "If you don't get my clothes off and _fuck me_ I swear to god I'll divorce you."

 "I'll risk it." Derek chuckles, turning his hand so his fingers can brush behind his balls.

 " _Derek_." Stiles whines, pulling at his hair. "Please, _please_ you fucking—"

 "That's what I needed to hear." Derek rumbles approvingly, sitting back to push off his pants and then pull Stiles' underwear away.

 Stiles gets both his legs around his hips and tugs him forward, going loose when Derek's cock pushes against his. "Oh, _fuck_." he sighs happily.

 "I didn't bring lube down." Derek informs him, a little nervously. Stiles grabs the back of his neck and kisses him.

 "We don't need lube for this." Stiles reminds him, his words bouncing off Derek's mouth and back to his.

 Derek heaves a sigh of relief and reaches down to start smearing their precome over each other. "God, Stiles..."

 "You feel so fucking good." Stiles whimpers, bucking his hips up. "So fucking—"

 Derek hushes him, pressing soft barely-there kisses to his lips. "We're gonna take it slow, remember?"

 Stiles wishes he could be snarky and say something, but the idea of jeopardizing what he's feeling right now goes against his very being. So he lets Derek grind slowly, sometimes using his hand to catch the right amount of friction but often just cupping Stiles' face and kissing him while their bodies slide together.

 Stiles has always made frankly embarrassing sounds in bed, and this time is no different. His voice goes so high it cracks, tiny little squeaks of pleasure that Derek responds to with fervor.

 "F-fuck." Derek breathes against his mouth. "Stiles..."

 "Oh, god, I'm so fucking close." Stiles whines, arching his hips up just a little. Derek nods and slips a hand between them, holding them tight together while he fucks into his fist. Stiles sinks his nails into Derek's shoulders and bucks his hips one more time before coming so hard it splatters up to his neck. Derek moans and releases Stiles so he can properly jack himself off. "Oh, fuck, _fuck_..." he grits through his teeth, and Stiles eases a hand down to assist him. Two seconds later Derek comes all over his stomach, shaking and panting and utterly beautiful in how much of a disaster he is.

 Stiles grins lazily, easing his legs off Derek's hips. Derek huffs his own tired laugh and leans down—carefully avoiding the come puddles—to kiss him. Stiles sneakily dips his fingers into the mess while Derek is distracted and the moment he pull away Stiles smears it all over his abs. Derek rolls his eyes. "Super mature."

 "My motives are pure." Stiles promises, dipping his fingers back in and this time painting it across Derek's clavicle.

 "I somehow sincerely doubt that."

 "Well, _this_ way you'll want to shower immediately." Stiles tells him. "Which means you can't go back to sleep, and we'll get out of here sooner to meet Scott."

 "You're evil." Derek informs him, a begrudgingly impressed expression on his face. Stiles smiles and leans up to kiss him.

***

 "You should buy me this."

 Derek doesn't even look up at him this time before saying "No."

 "Derek—"

 "You know, the point of Christmas is to be surprised by what you get." Derek informs him, turning and then frowning at what he's holding. "And I am _not_ getting you that."

 Stiles pouts, holding the complete disaster of a sweater up to himself. "It's got Darth Vader on it."

 "It's the ugliest sweater I've ever seen."

 "I know." Stiles agrees with a giggle.

 Derek rolls his eyes. "You're the worst."

 "Yep." Stiles tosses it at him and turns to go adventuring for something even more likely to cause Derek physical pain.

 Scott and his kids wheel up to them, a cart full of bags, under which is Vivie clutching a box of chocolates. Wyatt is silent in his carrier, completely content to stare at his father's face or sleep. Stiles whistles softly at his cart. "Derek needs to step up his game."

 "It's for everyone else." Scott says flatly. "I still haven't found something for Allison."

 "How about chocolate?" Stiles asks, grinning evilly and reaching for Vivie's box. Vivie squeals and smacks his hands away.

 "I want to get her something really special." Scott sighs, gesturing towards Derek who is eyeing up a rack of cookware. "Like Derek did for you, last year."

 Stiles snorts. "Good luck with that. Mine took actual magic."

 "It set the bar too high." Scott agrees darkly.

 "Why don't you make her something?"

 "Yeah, because my art skills are what I'm known for."

 "I'm making her something." Vivie reminds them.

 "And she'll love it, sweetheart." Scott promises with a sigh. "But Daddy is not as talented as you are."

 Vivie nods in solemn understanding.

 "What did you get Erica?" Stiles asks.

 "A sweater. It's her color and it's soft."

 Stiles nods. "And Lydia?"

 "You know what I got her. You got the list."

 Stiles grins. "You actually got her the wallet phone case?"

 "She was really specific." Scott defends. "What, are you not getting her the Bluetooth keyboard?"

 "I've debated mocking one up out of cardboard to spite her." Stiles admits.

 Scott rolls his eyes. "The point is, none of that stuff is really _special_."

 Stiles nods in sympathy. "At least you don't have to shop for a husband like Derek."

 "I heard that." Derek throws at them.

 "You were meant to." Stiles quips back.

 "Stiles, I seriously need help."

 "Look, the criteria for special gifts are as follows," Stiles puts a finger up for each listed item. "Homemade, family heirloom, or remembered wish. If you've got any three of those, you're golden."

 "Oh, I'm sure a family heirloom would go _great._ " Scott hisses. Stiles holds his hands up in defense. With a heavy sigh, Scott continues. "I can't make something, and I have no idea about any secret wishes or anything."

 "Why don't you have something made?" Derek suggests, stepping in.

 Scott perks up. "Have something made?"

 "Sure. You can't make it, so pay someone else to make it. It'll still be your idea, and then it'll be one of a kind."

 Scott sobs in relief and throws himself into Derek's arms. "You're a goddamn _hero_."

 "Hey, hands off my hero." Stiles jokes. Scott still takes another moment before stepping back.

 "I'm going to go browse for stores that do custom stuff, see if I can get an idea. Where do you guys want to meet?"

 "Food court, duh." Stiles snorts, slipping under Derek's arm. "Good luck, buddy."

 Vivie waves until they round a corner and are out of site. Stiles looks up at Derek curiously. "You're scary good at this Christmas thing."

 "Like you would've married me if I hadn't been." Derek chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "C'mon, let's go. I know you've been dying to look at puppies."

 Stiles whoops. It's his favorite part of the mall. The store is old and crowded, having been pretty much the first shop to go in, but there's something charming about the seventy-year-old woman bustling around and throwing treats at both the dogs in the shop and those who wander in with their owners. It's exclusively dogs, something that Stiles had thought was strange since most pet stores dabble, but when he'd asked one time about it the woman had barked a sharp laugh and proudly proclaimed herself a dog person _only_.

 There's an old bloodhound sleeping in the window today, and Stiles immediately enters to round to the other side so he can pet him. "Hey, buddy." Stiles coos as he looks up at him with heavy eyes. "Sorry, just had to pet you because you're so cute." His tail thumps in response and Stiles grins.

 "Hello, young man. Been awhile." The old woman croaks at him, hands on her hips.

 "It has." Stiles agrees as he stands. "How are you, Katherine?"

 "Old." she responds shortly, pausing a moment before barking a laugh. She doesn't smoke now, but when Stiles was a kid this store was always filled with smoke and she always had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. It reflects in her cracking voice. "You just browsing?"

 "Yeah." he agrees sadly.

 "One day you'll tell me no." she says, and it sounds like a threat. Stiles responds with a weak laugh as she shuffles away.

 "She scares me so much." Stiles breathes to Derek, who chuckles behind him. They wander towards the next pen, where a young lab is bouncing on her toes with excitement to see them. The tag on her pen names her Beth, and puts her at only two years. Stiles reaches in to pet her and is rewarded with hundreds of sloppy kisses. "Aren't you a sweetheart?" Stiles laughs. "It's nice to meet you, too."

 "Wonder if she's trained at all." Derek mumbles.

 "Beth, sit." Stiles says firmly. She barks at him and continues to bounce. Stiles laughs. "Well, not today. It was nice to meet you, Beth."

 The next pen is a five year old black dachshund named Kettle whose entire body wiggles when she wags her tail. "Oh my god, cutest name ever." Stiles gushes, reaching over to pet her. She immediately rolls to her back, still wiggling, and Stiles rewards her for the cuteness by rubbing her belly. "Derek, did you see? Her name is _Kettle_. Because she's _black_."

 Derek snorts, standing above him with his arms crossed but a warm smile on his face. "Maybe it's because she makes high pitched whining noises."

 "Either way." Stiles coos to her, patting her belly one last time before drawing back. She flails for a moment before righting herself and hopping onto the side of the cage, little body still wriggling. "She's adorable."

 "They're all adorable."

 "And your point?" Stiles throws over his shoulder, moving to the next dog. They spend almost an hour there, Stiles doing circles around the shop four times before Derek pulls him out. Scott is trying to feed Wyatt a bottle and keep Vivie in her seat when they find him in the food court, and he glares at them. "Please tell me you did not _you-know-what_ in the mall."

 "We would _never_." Stiles gasps.

 "You _have_." Scott reminds him.

 "We were teenagers."

 "You were twenty-two. Derek was twenty-six."

 "Vivie, why don't we go get lunch while your Daddy stops being a buzz kill?"

 "What's a buzz kill?" she asks, hopping out of her seat and taking his hand.

 "That is a very good question." Stiles responds, turning to wink at Scott's annoyed expression.

***

 "Derek?!" Stiles screams when he gets home, pausing briefly to wait for a response. There's no thumping of Derek tripping his way to the door to make sure Stiles isn't bleeding out, or a heavy sigh of him being done with Stiles' shit, so Stiles nods and gestures for his friends to come in.

 "This is so lame." Erica complains loudly. "I mean, he's just going to see it the moment he gets home."

 "No, he won't, because it's going in the basement."

 "Excuse you?" Boyd raises his eyebrows, stopping in the middle of the door.

 " _Please_." Stiles pleads. "He never goes down there. I'm going to wrap the pieces individually and put the instructions in a cute little envelope and—"

 "Oh my god, you're so cute." Erica giggles, starting the train again. Boyd doesn't look like he feels the same.

 There's halfway down the basement steps when Boyd looks up. "Derek's home."

 "What?" Stiles squeaks. "No, he's supposed to be gone for another hour!"

 "Stiles?" Derek calls out, getting closer to the basement door. Stiles heart drops as he waves Erica and Boyd down before rushing up. He runs directly into Derek at the entrance to the laundry room.

 "Hi, baby." Stiles says, kissing him thoroughly. "Welcome home."

 Derek blinks at him for a solid minute before Erica and Boyd come up the stairs and draw his attention. "What are you guys doing here?"

 "I needed some heavy lifting done in the basement." Stiles says with a shrug. "The lights and stuff. I didn't want to make you do it."

 Derek's expression turns into relief. "Oh. Cool. You guys want to stay for dinner?"

 "Kylie's at dance, so we've got to go get her." Erica says, grinning much too wide. "Besides, it looks like Stiles has other plans for you."

 "Not untrue." Stiles admits. "But not something I want to hear you allude to."

 "If Boyd weren't such a stickler, I wouldn't just be alluding." she says with a wink, patting Stiles' on the shoulder and taking Boyd's hand to drag him out of the house.

 "I don't understand how Boyd can stand her." Derek huffs when the front door closes.

 "The same way you can stand me." Stiles leans up and kisses him again. Derek melts against his mouth, grabbing at his hips.

 "What's this for?" Derek pants when Stiles' eases back.

 "I have a hot husband, that's what." Stiles snorts, easing him away from the basement door. "How was your thing anyway?"

 "My 'thing?'" Derek snorts, grabbing his hips and leading them backwards more gracefully. "You mean _work?_ "

 "Yeah, that."

 "It was fine, I guess. Linda yelled at us again for leaving fast food wrappers in the engines."

 "Poor baby." Stiles coos. "Did she hurt your feelings?"

 "Oh, terribly."

 "Let me make it better." Stiles bargains.

 Derek just laughs at him, bumping up against the kitchen counter. "That was even more cheesy than usual."

 "You can laugh or I can blow you." Stiles says flatly, already dropping to his knees. Derek keeps grinning, but he stops laughing, so Stiles pops the button on his jeans and drags his zipper down. "You know, the whole kids thing would be nice..." Stiles starts with a sigh.

 "Really? You're thinking that _right now?_ "

 "If you'd let me finish, you'd know that I was about to say kids would be nice _but_ having sex with you in random locations is nicer."

 Derek makes a knowing noise, pushing his fingers through Stiles' hair. "My mistake."

 "Clearly." Stiles agrees quietly, tugging his jeans and underwear out of the way. Derek's cock is just showing interest, but the moment Stiles' sinks his mouth around him it climbs on board. Derek leans heavily on the counter, groaning and sinking into it. "God, _fuck_." he breathes.

 Stiles hums, squeezing around the base of his cock and slurping messily like Derek likes him to. Derek's fingers slip into his hair, tugging him closer whenever he sucks him in. Stiles blinks up at him, feeling warm at the site of his throat bared even though it blocks his view of that gorgeous face. He draws back and presses his tongue flat against the tip.

 "Stiles," Derek groans, whole body shuddering.

 "What?" Stiles asks with a smirk, sliding his hand over his cock.

 "Don't stop." Derek begs, looks back down at him and tugging at his hair. "I'm so fucking close."

 Stiles ducks back in to messily slurp at the tip, keeping his eyes locked with Derek's. Derek grits his teeth and drops one hand to the back of his neck, encouraging him closer. Stiles pushes both hands against Derek's hips, knocking him back into the counter, and then takes him all the way down his throat.

 Derek moans, hands going tight, his thighs shaking as he comes. Stiles waits until his grip goes weak before easing himself off, blinking the water out of his eyes and pressing his mouth against his stomach for lazy kisses while he catches his breath.

 "Holy shit." Derek breathes a few minutes later, moving one hand to grab at the counter for balance while his other cards through his hair. "Stiles."

 "Don't mention it." Stiles croaks smugly, grazing his teeth across the jut of his hip.

 "What did I do to deserve that?"

 Stiles clears his throat to help alleviate the scratchiness of his voice. "I like giving you blowjobs. You know that."

 "Not blowjobs like _that_."

 "Excuse you, I'm good at all blowjobs."

 Derek laughs at that, a breathy laugh but a laugh all the same. "You are, I wasn't saying you weren't. I meant ambush blowjobs."

 Stiles sits back on his knees, frowning up at him. "Why do I have to have a reason to want to blow you?"

 "You don't." Derek agrees.

 "Well, you're giving me the third degree about it. So what gives?"

 "Nothing. I wasn't—"

 "I'm offended, honestly. Like, is this how we're going to live the rest of our lives? Asking questions each time one of us does something remotely sexy?"

 "Stiles—"

 "Because I'm not sure I can live like that."

 "I'm sorry." Derek sighs. "You're right, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't be questioning you."

 "No, you shouldn't." Stiles sniffs, tucking Derek back into his underwear.

 "Thank you for the ambush blowjob."

 Stiles looks up at him while he does up his jeans, eyebrow raised. "You're welcome." He stands and pecks Derek on the mouth. "And apology accepted."

 "Want me to cook dinner for further repentance?"

 Stiles beams and kisses him again.

***

 Stiles wakes up early. Not ungodly early, but early enough that when he peels himself away from Derek the werewolf just grumbles unhappily at him. He didn't sleep very well in the first place, but the level of haze over his eyes just seems uncalled for on Christmas morning. He blinks at his feet for a few minutes before stumbling his way into the shower. The water stings on his cold skin, but he uses that as a way to propel himself awake. He hadn't checked the time, but by the way the sun was glancing off his mom's fairy it was probably almost eight, which only gave him an hour or so to get himself together.

 The shower curtain pulling back startles him, but Derek doesn't seem to notice as he crawls in and drapes himself across his back and starts kissing. "You didn't have to get up."

 "I didn't." Derek grunts, using him as a leaning post.

 Stiles smiles, leaning back into him. They stand in the water just warming and waking up for a solid ten minutes before Derek seems to actually realize he's not in bed. Then he starts running his hand through Stiles hair, kissing his neck and getting increasingly more interested in _more_.

 "We don't have time." Stiles tells him, more than a little disappointed.

 "Make time."

 "Der," Stiles chuckles. "I don't want to scandalize our entire family."

 "We've already done that. Twice, for some people."

 "But Vivian—"

 "You're wet and you smell good." Derek whines. "S'not fair."

 "You didn't have to get in with me."

 Derek makes a noncommittal noise and nips at his ear. "Not even a little?"

 "No, not even a little." Stiles sighs, but he doesn't move away from him. Derek fits himself against him, hands sliding down to his waist. "Derek, didn't you hear me?"

 "I heard you. I'm ignoring you." Derek presses behind his ear, rocking his hips forward.

 Stiles sighs, automatically leaning back but catching himself a moment later. "Der, c'mon."

 "Come on where?"

 Stiles turns his head towards him, glaring. "That was _not_ funny."

 Derek smiles anyway, leaning in to kiss him. It completely devolves from there. Derek gets him turned completely around slides him back against the shower wall, where he's out of the spray but occasionally a drop will hit the top of his head.

 "Stiles, baby, please." Derek pants. "Just say I can, I want you so bad, I need..."

 Stiles nods, cupping his face and kissing him. "You can."

 Derek heaves a sigh of relief and then promptly lifts him onto his hips. His cock, not achingly hard but hard enough, slides up between his cheek, brushing over his hole but not pressing into it. Stiles groans and shivers, reaching to clutch at Derek's shoulders. "Derek."

 "Let me just—" he pants, already working his hips in jerky, unsure thrusts. "Please. Fuck, you're so—"

 Stiles kisses him, feels lust spike through him every time Derek slides his cock back across his hole. He's spasming, his body conditioned to open for Derek, and that seems to make things better for his husband who occasionally catches the head on his rim.

 "So fucking good, so beautiful, perfect..." Derek chants against his mouth the closer he gets. "I'm gonna..."

 "Yeah?" Stiles squeezes his hips with his thighs. "Gonna come?"

 "Yes." Derek grits out of his teeth. "Stiles, _Stiles_..."

 Derek's claws prick against his ass, where Derek's holding him up, as Derek comes with a few weak groans and quick thrusts. Stiles carefully makes Derek ease him down onto his own two feet, which is harder when Derek is taking up use of his mouth and most of his brain by immediately palming at his cock.

 Tiny, gasping whines break out of his mouth. Derek grins. "I got you, baby, I got you. Let go."

 "I-if I let go, I'm gonna fall." Stiles whimpers. It's supposed to come out with a lot more attitude than it does, but he doesn't have it in him right now.

 "Never let you fall." Derek promises lowly, dipping his mouth close to his head. "You're so close, aren't you baby?" Stiles nods. "Got you, c'mon. Fuck, I want to see you come so bad. C'mon."

 Stiles grits his teeth and let's out an unmanly squeak followed by a loud, full-bodied moan. It feels like his soul escaping—and he's had that happen once, so he knows—but Derek catches him like he promised and brushes more quiet, soft promises against his mouth.

 Stiles takes a moment to get his bearings before glaring at Derek. "You know we didn't have time for that."

 "We made time. That's what makes a marriage work." Derek dismisses him with a smile.

 "I'm supposed to make breakfast. Waffles and eggs and bacon and cinnamon rolls and—"

 "Shh..." Derek hushes him, crowding him further into the wall. "You can't freak out during the afterglow, that's against the rules."

 "Do _not_ talk to me about rules, Derek Hale." Stiles snaps, but it's followed by a begrudging grin. "Like you ever follow the rules."

 "I follow the important ones." Derek says with a soft, easy smile before kissing him again.

 They finish their shower in relative peace. Stiles indulges Derek's wandering hands because it's Christmas, and Derek let's Stiles wash his hair even though he doesn't particularly like it because it feels too much like being groomed. Once they're out Derek makes a valiant attempt to haul him back into bed but fails, and they both get dressed.

 It's 9:30 when they both get downstairs, and Derek immediately heads for the coffee maker while Stiles grabs his laptop from the office to figure out exactly what kind of miracle timing he's going to have to pull off. Which is, of course, when the door opens. "Merry Christmas!" Scott hollers. Stiles glares at Derek, but he's too busy staring at the coffee machine to care.

 "Uncle Stiles!" Vivie shouts as she races in, latching onto his leg. "Merry Christmas!"

 "Merry Christmas, Vivie." Stiles greets with a smile, lifting her up. "Do you want to help me make breakfast?"

 "Yeah!"

 "I thought breakfast was supposed to be made." Allison says, entering the kitchen with Wyatt on her hip. The kid looks just like his father, all wide eyes and dark skin with hair black as night sticking straight up off his head. When Allison leans in for a half hug, he kidnaps him and tosses him into the air. He squeals with giggles, flashing his toothless gums before pressing both hands on either sides of Stiles' face until he blows a raspberry at him.

 "It was, but we had a busy morning."

 "Why?" Vivie asks, in typical six-year-old fashion.

 "Santa had problems getting all your presents down the chimney last night." Stiles informs her. "So he left them outside and we had to bring them in."

 Vivie gapes. " _That many presents?_ "

 "Well, go look."

 She shoots out of the kitchen, nearly knocking into Scott on her way. He dodges with werewolf speed and rolls his eyes. "You told her to go count the presents, huh?"

 "I am not a good man." Stiles reminds him before turning to make a face at Wyatt.

 "Good morning, Derek." Allison greets, probably a little too loudly and with a little too much of a grin. "How was helping Stiles with all those gifts?"

 Derek raises an eyebrow at her from above his cup. "Wet."

 "Derek." Stiles scolds, earning his own smirk. "We're not talking about it. Now someone take this adorable baby away from me so I can make cinnamon rolls."

 Scott swoops his son away from Stiles and hangs him upside down. Allison and Derek pack themselves in next to the coffee maker, Derek offering her a cup before sinking back into his own.

 Isaac and Lydia come in then, Chase immediately latching onto Vivian, and Peyton chasing them both. Lydia's in a bright, expensive looking red shirt and Stiles immediately glares. She puts her hands on her hips. "Just because it's a higher level of pajama then my husband's shirt doesn't mean it's not pajamas."

 "Isaac, did she or did she not pull that off a hanger this morning?" Stiles asks with arms elbow deep in a mixing bowl.

 "This is silk, you're damn right I pulled it off a hanger."

 "The point of family Christmas is not to have to dress up."

 "You don't have to brave the cold to get here." she snaps.

 "Can I get one of those?" Isaac mumbles blearily, shuffling towards the coffee. Derek immediately grabs him a cup.

 "The cold? You mean the fifty degrees Fahrenheit that is California in the wintertime?" Stiles snorts, still mixing dough.

 "You say that when you've got to make the commute."

 "Great, next year _you_ can host Christmas."

 Lydia opens her mouth to retort when Derek's ringtone cuts her off. Everyone turns to look at him as he frowns at the screen. "It's Erica."

 "Well, answer it." Stiles pushes.

 He lifts the phone to his ear. "Hey, Erica, what's—" Derek's expression drops. "What? How? Is she okay? Okay, we'll be there—What? No, you can't—Erica, this is ridiculous, just let us—" Derek pulls his phone back to blink at it and curses.

 "What's going on?" Scott demands.

 "Kylie had a seizure."

***

  "We told Derek you didn't have to come." Erica mumbles into her cup. Allison is draped across her shoulders, rubbing her cheek over her shoulder. Lydia is currently stirring her own coffee, untouched and probably cold. Derek is with Boyd, keeping him from harassing doctors. Scott and Isaac are peering at the display case of cafeteria food with tempted but wary expressions.

 Stiles, for his part, can't bring himself to sit. He paces back and forth, one eye on the clock and the other at the door, waiting for Boyd or Derek to show up. "Of course we came, Erica. We wouldn't _not_ come."

 "It's just a lot of waiting." Erica shrugs. "It was always a lot of waiting."

 Stiles stops to look at her. "Erica, this isn't your fault."

 "Of course it's my fault. It's my stupid disease."

 "Erica, you didn't ask to be sick." Allison reminds her softly. "And we don't know that this isn't an isolated incident."

 "And if it's not, we'll deal with it together." Lydia says firmly before sliding in to initiate a group hug.

 Stiles steps forward to join when someone snags his arm and tugs him out of the cafeteria. He's about to go into defense mode when he registers Derek's face. "Hey. Hi. What did they say?"

 "Nothing, yet." Derek sighs. "She's going to be here for at least tonight. The neurologist doesn't come until after New Years, unless they want to drive her all the way to Sacramento on the 28th."

 "They don't have anyone here who can look at her?"

 "No."

 Stiles sighs, putting his head in his hands. "All night? She's stuck in the hospital on Christmas."

 "She wants to talk to you."

 He looks up. "Me?"

 Derek nods.

 "Oh. Um. Okay." Stiles links his fingers automatically with Derek's and let's him lead him away. When they get in the elevator, Stiles asks "What does she want to see me for?"

 "I don't know. I just got her what she wanted."

 "Where's Boyd?"

 "He went to their house to get stuff for tonight. I'm going back down to talk to everyone else once you get there."

 "So she asked for me? Like, _me_ me?"

 "Well, she really wanted the other Uncle Stiles, but I told her that you were the only one we had."

 "Derek." Stiles sighs, rubbing his forehead. "That's not what I meant, I just—I don't get _why_."

 "So go see." Derek says as the door pings open. "She's 510."

 Stiles nods, squeezing Derek's fingers one last time before hunting down the door. He stands awkwardly in front of it for a minute before knocking, and a quiet "Come in." beckons him inside. He peaks around the door, looking at the tiny, fragile 12 year old laying hooked up to impressively scary monitors. He's seen those eyes before, in her father years ago when he'd been bleeding out in his lap and telling him to remind Erica he loved her. "Hey, sweetie." Stiles greets softly. "You okay?"

 "No." she answers, just as blunt and honest as her father. "Uncle Stiles, I'm scared."

 Stiles enters the room and shuts the door behind him, taking the seat next to her bed and grabbing her hand. Her hair is matted under a cap, wires poking out of it. "I know. We are, too."

 Her eyes water up. "I don't want to ruin Christmas."

 Stiles shakes his head. "Not possible, sweet-pea." he promises. "Christmas can be whenever we want it to be. It's a religious and government imposed tradition that puts it on the 25th. Don't you worry, you aren't ruining anything."

 "But what if—" she blubbers, raising her other hand to wipes at the tears rolling down her face. "What if it doesn't go away? They said Mommy had this, too, and—and they couldn't treat it. What if it ruins every Christmas? What if it ruins _everything?_ "

 "Kylie, sweet-pea." Stiles reaches up to wipes more tears away. "We are going to take care of you. We aren't going to let you be in pain like your Mommy was. Your parents will never let that happen."

 "But I don't know if I want the Bite, I don't know if I'm ready, I—"

 "Hey, hey. Listen to me. You don't need the Bite to get better. You're going to be fine, and completely and totally human for as long as you want."

 She swallows. "You think so?"

 "I know so."

 Kylie smiles, still scared and sad, but there's hope there too. Stiles grins back at her. The door opens, Boyd entering with more bags than was strictly necessary. Stiles turns his grin to him. "You know, I've spent a lot of nights in hospitals. This is a little overkill."

 "No one asked you, Stiles." Boyd gripes, dropping the bags and rushing to Kylie's side. "Are you okay, baby girl? How're you doing?"

 "I'm okay, Daddy." she promises.

 "I brought your Kindle. And your favorite PJs. And Julian." He turns and whips a stuffed rabbit out of one of the bags. Kylie blushes and rolls her eyes, but she takes Julian into her arms. "Everyone is on their way up to see you."

 Kylie nods sheepishly, taking her hand from Stiles to hug her rabbit. That's when the sounds land on human ears.

 Footfall crashes down the hallway, followed closely by the door bursting open. Chase and Vivian, followed closely by Peyton, both leap onto the bed, all the adults simultaneously reaching for them and missing.

 "Kylie, why are you wearing that?" Vivian asks, scrunching her nose up. "And why do you smell funny?"

 "They put goo in my hair." Kylie explains, blinking in surprise at them.

 "I think it looks cool." Chase says with a grin. "Like a cyborg or something."

 Kylie smiles at that.

 "Kylie, Grampa says cuz you can't come to Uncle Stiles' and Uncle Derek's that we're gonna bring Christmas to you!"

 "What?"

 "Way to spoil the surprise." Stiles' dad says, hauling in his and Melissa's tiny fake tree.

 "Surprise!" Peyton yells, throwing her arms up.

 One after one, everyone crams into the room, setting up presents on top of Kylie whose eyes are glowing with delight. Someone plugs the tree in, and everyone situates themselves around the bed. The kids go through and open presents, throwing paper at each other and wowing at their goodies. Stiles dad slides up to his side. "There were quite a few presents there for Derek." he says, raising an eyebrow.

 "I like to spoil my loved ones. I get that from my dad."

 He snorts softly. "So what is it?"

 "Drafting table."

 His dad grins and ruffles his hair. "You do spoil him."

 Stiles glares at him until he walks away. Derek takes his place when he moves away, looping an arm around his waist. "So, what do you think?"

 "I think this is one of the best Christmases ever."

 "Good."

 "So where's my present?"

 "Not here."

 Stiles frowns at him. "You didn't bring it?"

 "Well, we have to go pick her up tomorrow, so no."

 "What?"

 Derek grabs an envelope from his pocket and hands it over. Stiles rips it open and picks out the picture, a tiny black dachshund with the name _Kettle_ scribbled on the back. Stiles looks up at him with wide eyes. "You didn't."

 "I hope you like it."

 "Derek, you _didn't_."

 "I know how much you wanted her."

 "I love you." Stiles declares, leaning up to kiss him. Derek leans back just slightly to say "There's also a sweater with Darth Vader on it somewhere in there."

 "You're perfect."

 "Uncle Stiles." Kylie calls, waving him over. He breaks away from Derek to join her side. Stiles leans down over her when she motions him too. "Do you remember last year? What you said about Santa?"

 "Uh...kind of."

 "This is the best Santa gift I've ever gotten."

 Stiles smiles, presses a gross kiss to her cheek, and stands back to lean against Derek. _Yeah,_ he thinks, looking out over his family. _Me, too_.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/) so you can yell at me for being late


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